The Surprising Key to Surviving—and Thriving—in the Modern Workplace

Recently a Christian man, who has spent 35 years in corporate America, confided in me. He shared that of the hundreds of co-workers he’d labored alongside—in different industries, at different firms—there have been fewer than 20 that he trusted. In the last eight months, two college graduates told me that soon after walking into corporate America they walked out on Jesus. There was too much pressure. Thankfully, both are now walking with Jesus again, but it reveals an issue. How can workers being dipped daily in the acid bath of modern workplaces survive? How can we avoid our American dream turning into our spiritual nightmare?

Let me be clear. Dorothy Sayers’s challenge from 1942 remains spot-on. In her essay, “Why Work?” she writes, “In nothing has the Church so lost her hold on reality as in her failure to understand and respect the secular vocation.” Christians must engage in their secular vocations as Christians, knowing that these spaces belong to us. The parable of the wheat and weeds (Matthew 13) tells us that the world is not a jungle. It’s a cultivated field, cultivated for us to thrive in. So, this is about more than surviving. It is about thriving. But what happens when everything seems to be backfiring? When the pressure is too much? What happens when all good intentions seemed choked out by weeds?

Steven Garber’s The Fabric of Faithfulness (2007) is a great place to begin. He identifies three necessary aspects of developing a solid and stable Christian worldview:

Over the course of hours of listening to people who still believe in the vision of a coherent faith, one that meaningfully connects personal disciplines with public duties, again and again I saw that they were people (1) Who had formed a worldview sufficient for the challenges of the modern world, (2) Who had found a teacher who incarnated that worldview, (3) Who had forged friendships with folk whose common life was embedded in that worldview. There were no exceptions. (p. 124)

This is brilliant in its reoccurring theme—you can’t do it alone—adding a further important caveat to our discussion. Besides taking an intrinsically positive approach—thriving not just surviving—this essay will also take a “collective” approach. It might have been that the following discussion would be an individualistic “how-to” guide for navigating the modern workplace. But this does not work, especially in light of Garber. We must present everything in a way directed towards helping each other to navigate this tricky but crucial maze.

There are two key places in Scripture featuring Christians who encounter antagonistic worldviews. These passages offer ways to maintain a Christian worldview which can be used to help others; they encourage us all to be bold enough to thrive. I wonder if you can guess which passages they are? Perhaps the answer will surprise you. The two places are Mark’s Gospel and 1 Corinthians. A common feature of both is that Jesus appears silly within environments containing toxic and opposing worldviews. But it is actually by embracing such “silliness” that we will be emboldened to both survive and thrive in our own environments. All this may seem at first to be quite counter-intuitive. How can owning up to the “silliness” of your own position produce confidence? And yet, as we will see, based on the testimony of two separate parts of Scripture, this statement is true. But how can we be helped to see this? And how can we help others to live within it? Read on to discover the answer.

We will start by looking at these two passages focusing on the theme of embracing “folly”. Then we will finish by examining a complimentary theme in these texts: the fear of God.

Writing to the Corinthian church, Paul uses a surprising term in 1 Corinthians 3:1–4, σάρκινος, often translated as “of the flesh” or “carnal.” The Scofield Reference Bible, published in the early 20^th century, says this about Paul’s “carnal Christian” language:

Paul divides men into three classes: psuchikos, “of the senses” (James 3:15; Jude 19), or “natural,” i.e. the Adamic man, unrenewed through new birth (John 3:3, 5); pneumatikos, “spiritual,” i.e. the renewed man as Spirit-filled and walking in full communion with God (Ephesians 5:18–20); and sarkikos, “carnal,” “fleshly,” i.e. the renewed man who, walking “after the flesh,” remains a babe in Christ (1 Cor. 3.1–4). The natural man may be learned, gentle, eloquent, fascinating, but the spiritual content of Scripture is absolutely hidden from him; and the fleshly, or carnal Christian is able to comprehend only its simplest truths, “milk” (1 Cor. 3:2) (Scofield Reference Bible, pp. 1213–14).

This expression “carnal Christianity” has worried many Christians over the years. Historically, besides the above study Bible reference, it was promoted in expanded form by Lewis Sperry Chafer in the book He That is Spiritual (1918). The problem for many people with this notion has been that someone claiming to be a Christian, yet not living like one, can supposedly be saved. But before you push back like others before have, notice that this description of a “carnal Christian” comes straight from the text of 1 Corinthians 3:1–4. Notice too that in 1 Corinthians 11:30–32 when the same Christians were dying due to punishment for their worldly corruption of the Lord’s Supper, they are not described as unbelievers, but as those disciplined by God (cf. Hebrews 12:3–11), those who should anticipate a waking up to resurrection hope in Christ, having merely “fallen asleep” due to God’s discipline.

A key point to add here is that nowhere does Paul assume that someone can stay indefinitely in this kind of place—something will surely give—meaning it’s an exaggeration to call this a “category” of Christian. Nevertheless, one thing to note is that Paul is extremely optimistic about people who claim they are Christians, even when they are not acting like they are. Never in Paul’s writing does he seem inclined to push people who claim Christ away from him. Rather, his response is always to urge them on to better things, assuming that their profession is rooted in genuineness. Is this how we often think about such people? Perhaps it is time for a rethink considering what we find in Paul.

But a main point I wish you to ponder here is whether in all our focus on the “carnal Christian” we have misread Paul’s “milk” analogy. The typical way to read this analogy has been to imagine Paul wringing his hands at having to constantly feed the Corinthian believers “milk”—the basic teaching that “Jesus died for your sins” (it is assumed)—basic teachings that they do in fact embrace, but only this. Under such a reading, solid food cannot be swallowed and stomached, for other reasons, not related to the milk. So, Paul is presented as a frustrated preacher who simply wants to go move on to deeper doctrine.

But a closer reading suggests that this is not the way Paul’s “milk” analogy should be read. The “milk” has things in it which are vital to them growing up into the next stage of life. This milk has content that needs to be metabolized. What? The folly of the cross.

Consider two verses in each chapter across 1 Corinthians 1–4 to see the entire context of what immaturity and maturity amounts to, noting that it is all about internalizing the mystery of Christ’s foolish crucifixion in the light of other assumptions. Note the italics highlighted in these verses, emphasizing how one is emboldened when one embraces the message of folly. It seems that Paul is saying that when a person can embrace this mystery of Christ’s foolishness, it is then that they can be comfortable in their own Christian skin:

^1:18 For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. ¹⁹ For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart”… ^2:14 The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. ¹⁵ The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one… ^3:1But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. ² I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. And even now you are not yet ready… ^4:3 But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. ⁴ For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. (1 Cor. 1:18–19; 2:14–15; 3:1–2; 4:3–4).

We come here to our main point. The Christian message about a God who would come as a peasant teacher, who would spend his life not employing his power to gain more fame, and who would ultimately allow himself to be killed in weakness and humiliation is a scandal. But it is a scandal that is true, because it reflects our self-effacing God, who calls his people to be like this also (John 13). This is so contrary to a worldview that says “I follow Paul! I follow Apollos!” (1 Cor. 3:4)—lauding competition and the creation of division and power structures. In light of this, the Christian worldview could only appear foolish! But this worldview of a “foolish” Jesus is right, and when by the Spirit we can finally see and embrace this, incredible power and confidence flows, a power and confidence that allow us to stand up against all other worldviews which revere earthly power and glory.

In a moment we will return to apply all of this. But for the moment, let’s notice another Scriptural text suggesting the same thing.

Tradition would say that Mark wrote his Gospel in the midst of extreme pressure from the Roman juggernaut of the first century. Christians were being rounded up by Nero and killed in Rome, as the Roman Principate flexed its muscles—suggesting to Christians that they were nothing compared to Roman sophistication and might. This was a case of extreme pressure put upon Christians from an imposing alternative worldview. But amid this, Mark sets out to write an account of Jesus’ life, not without purpose, but for the very reason of countering this worldview. He writes with his audience clearly in mind, just as John did (John 20:30–31). But what elements of Jesus’ life and ministry does Mark choose to emphasize? The answer is extraordinary. Instead of focusing on Jesus’ more sophisticated and philosophical “city teaching” as John does, Mark chooses to outline the life and works of Jesus in the country, presenting the simplistic “folly” of this country Jesus. Notice carefully again, the fact that John chose the more sophisticated teaching of Jesus from his visits to Jerusalem during festivals, shows that Mark could have done the same. But instead, Mark, who writes to suffering Christians in Rome, chooses to focus on Jesus’ ministry in less sophisticated areas:

• Mark is filled with the “folly” of stories about seeds falling in soil, about strong men having their houses robbed.
• Mark is filled with healings of the sick and demon-possessed, displaying Jesus’ raw authority overpowers that oppressed ordinary “superstitious” people.
• Mark is filled with accounts of fishermen being called, tax collectors forgiven, and outcasts restored—stories of God’s kingdom breaking in on the margins.
• Mark is filled with miracles over nature—storms stilled, loaves multiplied, water walked upon—signs that God’s kingdom is about more than just human institutions.
• Mark is filled with conflict narratives, where Jesus confronts religious leaders and unclean spirits, showing that this is also a kingdom of truth.
• And Mark finally climaxes with the cross, the ultimate show of weakness in a Roman context, which becomes a shameless display of divine victory, reminding suffering believers that God’s power is made perfect in weakness.

Notice, Mark’s way of helping suffering Christians in the face of the sophisticated system of patronage and power is not to present an alternative system of patronage and power. Instead, he presents a worldview drawn from the Old Testament, from Isaiah 40–66, about a gentle king who conquers through kindness (Is. 42:3), and ultimately suffers in a misunderstood way for others (Is. 53).

Note further: who are the real enemies in Mark’s gospel? Never the Romans. Instead, it is always Satanic forces, along with religious leaders attempting to distort the truly divine truth about Jesus. The great “secret” is that this seemingly pathetic Jesus is actually Lord of all!

The emphasis too of a “shameful” crucified Jesus is also so striking. How is this meant to inspire Mark’s readers? Because this foolish Jesus who came to establish a promised, apparently hidden, and foolish kingdom, living in the same way, not following the path of power and self-seeking, will ultimately result in victory. His readers should not be afraid, but rather have faith and proclaim the good news of Jesus!

With all these things in mind, we are ready to consider how this message of foolishness, that inspired people of old, should also inspire us. We are ready to see how a more mature Christian might encourage a weaker Christian to walk boldly in Christ’s footsteps.

If everything traced so far is true, then the deepest way to help another Christian in the workplace is not simply to give them advice on how to manage stress, balance time, or sharpen their resumes. Those things may help at the margins, but they do not touch the root of the problem. What younger believers need is not first a strategy but a vision—a vision of Christ crucified as the wisdom and power of God. Without this, they will always feel like outsiders in the workplace, forced to measure themselves by standards that they cannot meet, and tempted to capitulate to the wisdom of this age.

To help another Christian, then, means helping them embrace what feels most counterintuitive: that our faith only begins to make sense when we are willing to look foolish. Paul said it plainly in the passage we have already addressed: “We are fools for Christ’s sake” (1 Cor. 4:10). Mark told the same story by presenting Jesus not as a cultured lecturer in Jerusalem but as a healer in Galilee, speaking of seeds and storms and demons, climaxing in a shameful crucifixion. Both accounts point to the same reality: the way forward is through folly. And until a younger Christian can see this, they will remain spiritually paralyzed in the face of corporate pressure.

So, what does it mean practically to help someone embrace this?

First, we must help them see that it is normal to feel out of place. Let this soak in for a minute. When a graduate enters a corporate office filled with sophisticated conversations about success, strategy, and upward mobility, they will naturally feel that speaking about Jesus is strange, even embarrassing. If left unchecked, this embarrassment mutates into silence. Helping another means naming this dynamic, saying aloud, “Yes, of course this feels foolish. That is exactly what Paul said it would feel like. You are not doing Christianity wrong—you are actually experiencing it aright.”

Normalizing this has enormous power. Suddenly the young Christian realizes they are not defective, nor are they alone. The awkwardness they feel is not a sign of failure but a sign that they stand in continuity with the apostles and martyrs. To call foolishness what it is frees a believer from the haunting lie that says: “If you were stronger, smarter, or more eloquent, this wouldn’t feel strange.”

Second, we must help them reframe weakness. Everything in the workplace preaches the opposite. Promotions go to the strong. Recognition comes to the self-promoter. Respect accrues to the one who looks least vulnerable. But the gospel insists on a different way of seeing things: “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:10).

Helping another means showing them that the very places they feel most inadequate may become the stage for God’s power. A young believer terrified to admit they are a Christian at work might learn that trembling testimonies through acts of integrity, rather than polished eloquence, are often what pierce hearts. The colleague who admits they do not have it all together may, in that very honesty, demonstrate a stability their unbelieving peers cannot explain. This reframing does not come naturally. It must be modeled and spoken aloud.

Third, we must be willing to share our own stories of looking foolish. Nothing emboldens the timid like hearing that someone they respect has been there too. Tell them about the time you prayed silently over your lunch while co-workers watched, or the moment you decided not to exaggerate numbers in a report, or when you admitted to a manager that a Sunday service mattered more than overtime. These stories are not about boasting. They are about giving flesh and bones to the abstract claim that the cross is power.

Mark’s Gospel itself functions this way. By telling stories of Jesus calming storms and casting out demons in obscure places, Mark was giving Roman believers a gallery of foolish-seeming yet victorious moments. When we share our own, we continue that work.

Fourth, we must resist the temptation to only give counsel from a distance. The modern workplace is too isolating for that. Helping another means showing up, checking in, asking questions, praying together over specific workplace challenges. It means, where possible, entering their world—sharing a meal near their office, learning about their industry, honoring the weight of the pressures they carry. To say “embrace the folly of the cross” without entering their struggle risks sounding glib. But when we walk with them, our presence itself communicates: “You are not alone in this folly. We stand together under the banner of the crucified Christ.”

Finally, it is worth noting that in addition to “folly” there is another common theme that shines forth in these passages: fearing God. Returning to 1 Corinthians 1–4 we note that in 4:4 Paul says “For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me.” The only way to be freed from the tyranny of others’ opinions is to be captured by God’s. When a Christian fears losing credibility at work more than they fear displeasing God, compromise becomes inevitable. But when a Christian reveres the Lord more than the corporate ladder, they gain courage.

This is why older Christians must model holy fear. Do we demonstrate in our own lives that God’s verdict is the one that matters most? Do we make decisions that clearly show our allegiance is to him, not the market? If we do, we give younger believers a living picture of what it means to stand secure in God’s approval, even if the world calls us fools.

In the end, helping another survive in the workplace is not about shielding them from pressure but about equipping them to reinterpret pressure through the lens of the cross. We are not rescuing them from awkwardness; we are preparing them to endure it with joy. We are not promising them ease; we are inviting them into the paradoxical power of Christ’s weakness.

Corporate America may indeed feel like an acid bath. But the gospel has already told us the secret: the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. When we help another Christian embrace this, we are not handing them a coping strategy; we are handing them the very power of God. And that is the only way any of us will survive, and more than survive—thrive—in the workplaces to which we are called.